


Like a Weight Upon the Neck

by Pharmockery



Category: Fire Emblem: Kakusei | Fire Emblem: Awakening
Genre: F/F, F/M, Frederick mention, Gregor mention, Hurt/Comfort, Miriel mention, NO BETA WE DIE LIKE HEROES, One-sided Chrom/Cordelia, One-sided Robin/Cordelia, Stahl mention, Unrequited Love, Vaike mention
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 03:48:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29620152
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pharmockery/pseuds/Pharmockery
Summary: Cordelia could feel the words wanting to come out. They were jumbled, a mess of confessions and secrets and shame, hot white shame that prickled her skin as she wet her lips and searched for the right way to say them. “Is there… Wrongness? In loving two people at once? Two people you cannot have?”(An unrequited love Cordelia introspective on if she loved Chrom and Robin that somehow turned into a very light Tharja/Cornelia drabble)
Relationships: Chrom/My Unit | Reflet | Robin, Sallya | Tharja/Tiamo | Cordelia
Kudos: 6





	Like a Weight Upon the Neck

It was said, that upon the day of Prince Chrom’s wedding to his tactician Robin, maidens and gents alike wept with the knowledge he could never be theirs. That’s what the bards were singing, anyway, much to everyone’s distaste, and no matter how enthusiastically Sir Virion assured them that the maidens would not be adrift in their pining for long, they still insisted on singing the same damn verse.

Cordelia found it difficult for a number of reasons, the first of which was the most important and could never truly be uttered, but it was the reason why she watched Robin, clothed in white, kiss Chrom under the statue of Naga’s gentle gaze with tears in her eyes that weren’t entirely from happiness. Not at all like Lissa, who wept big tears of joy as she watched her brother embrace the one who he was meant for.

The second of the reasons was, of course, that the tune was just _bad_ , and even with her modest skills on the harp, she had devised a few far better melodies than the tripe that was currently bouncing around the taverns of Ylisse. It was only in these quiet, lonely moments that she even gave voice to these feelings, these hidden, terrible feelings, the picture of Prince Chrom dancing with Robin so clear in her minds eye that it made her stomach twist.

And she felt awful, you see, absolutely terrible, because she loved Robin with all her heart too, perhaps in a different way than she loved Chrom, but still that same fluttering, bouncing joy that she felt escape onto her face whenever she saw Robin smiling towards her, and that same aching _pain_ that accompanied every involuntary smile when she saw Robin grin with all the devotion in the world towards Chrom, who returned it just as wholly.

Her books had never really touched upon what to do if you found yourself brought low in love for two people at the same time. She supposed it was because they assumed that if one of them was unattainable, then perhaps the other wasn’t, and you would not need guidance on that path.

There was something _wrong_ with her, she had decided, a wrongness that all the training in the world could not—would not—fix. Make no mistake, she tried; immersed herself in sparring with the strongest opponents. The likes of Frederick, who though he raised an eyebrow at her tone and demands, humoured her desire to spar hand-to-hand with a ‘If you are certain’ in response. It did not last long, of course—Frederick clearly held back, but she was tripped onto her back and wheezing air back into her lungs within minutes of their fight starting. He did not humour her again; her heart was not in it, and though there was concern in his eyes as he gently told her so, he did not question it.

She wouldn’t have told him anyway.

The person who most seemed to understand, (although whether this was surprising or not, she could not say) was Tharja. The dark mage had not left Ylisstol after Gangrel’s defeat, muttering vaguely dark words about marriages not being wholly hex-proof, and it being advantageous to stick around.  
Perhaps what _was_ surprising was the fact that Tharja had approached her; appearing at her side one day during a feast to celebrate Lissa’s birthday. Cordelia had not realised—or perhaps she had, and had not cared—that she alone was not enjoying the food, and had simply been staring up at the royal table, where Robin laughed as she smeared cake over Chrom’s cheek, having missed his mouth as he ducked to avoid a sputter of magical sparks sent over his head from Ricken’s sheepish form.

They were all laughing, but Cordelia was not. Tharja said as much.

“You’re copying my normal expression.”

Cordelia jerked with alarm, looking towards the dark mage as she perched herself upon the bench next to Cordelia, scowling a little as across from them, Vaike demonstrated his ability to put multiple entire chicken legs into his mouth.

“I—Uh, I’m not—”

Tharja laughed bitterly at this, raising her eyebrows and twitching her head towards the high table.  
“Not sure I see the appeal, but if you get him, and I get Robin, perhaps we could find an agreement.”

There was no real promise in it, but Cordelia felt a shiver all the same. She swallowed, flushing a red almost as bright as her hair, as Tharja looked at her levelly.

“I—It’s not as simple as that for me.”

Another eyebrow raise, then a narrowing of those dark eyes.

“Oh?” Tharja tilted her head, resting her elbow on the table, delicate hand supporting her chin as she did so. “Do enlighten this wayward soul.”

Cordelia blushed, if it were possible for her to do, and looked at the wood of the table. Opposite them, Stahl gave Vaike a hefty slap on the back as the latter began to choke on one of the three chicken legs he’d jammed into his mouth.

“I—I can’t. I don’t—It’s not right to give voice to it.” Cordelia mumbled, hands fisting into her tunic. Beside her, Tharja gave a humourless snort.

“Telling _me_ won’t do any harm. Trust the Plegian to know how to keep one’s tongue from wagging. Or keep someone else’s, for that matter.” She looked over at the sight of Stahl moving the chicken legs away from Vaike as he weakly tried to reach for another, despite the fact his face was turning blue. A hearty slap, this time from his other side, from Gregor, who chortled good-naturedly and passed him some wine, and Vaike was gasping for breath once more. Tharja looked like she would happily seize the chicken legs and personally asphyxiate him again.

“I…” Cordelia risked a look up, at the table where Robin sat, head dipped in quiet conference with Chrom, and then to Tharja beside her. The Plegian was watching the couple with a sharp glare.

“And I am perhaps the _only_ one who sees where you come from, in a way. Except maybe that other Pegasus girl.”

No, not even Sumia would understand. Sumia held eyes for Chrom, like so many others did, but she wouldn’t understand Cordelia. Cordelia didn’t even understand Cordelia.

“Is…” Cordelia could feel the words wanting to come out. They were jumbled, a mess of confessions and secrets and _shame_ , hot white shame that prickled her skin as she wet her lips and searched for the right way to say them. “Is there… Wrongness? In loving two people at once? Two people you cannot have?”

Tharja paused, clearly not expecting this answer, although the dark mage did well to hide her surprise. Cordelia watched her, rapt, the forthcoming reply seeming to be the most important thing in the world at that very moment. More important than Chrom’s laugh as he watched Frederick confiscate the chicken legs from Vaike, more important than Robin’s smile as she gazed upon her husband’s profile.

“No,” Tharja said eventually, “There is not. There’s sadness, and anger. But there is not wrongness.”

There was a softness to Tharja now that Cordelia had never seen before. Where once she had been jagged edges, sharp smiles and sharper nails, there was an uncertainty there now. A chink in the armour.

Cordelia let out the breath she hadn’t realised she had held. There was a lightness to her shoulders, and she saw now what people meant when they said that secrets could be weights about your neck. It felt—liberating, to finally give voice, even if she hadn’t said it out loud, to a secret that had sat on her for near enough a year now.

The two of them sat quietly for a moment, watching Miriel explain the illogical nature of testing hypotheses of the chicken-leg variety in such an unstructured way.

“Thank you,” Cordelia said eventually. She looked at Tharja, and then to the high table. Robin and Chrom had departed, slipped away in the hustle and bustle of the celebration, leaving Lissa, Maribelle, and Frederick at the table alone, although they did not seem to much care. Frederick wore an expression of great weariness as Lissa and Maribelle spoke _at_ him, rather than to him, and Cordelia felt herself smile despite it all.  
“Thank you for letting me give it a voice.”

Tharja huffed a little bit, wrinkling her nose.  
“Don’t thank me. I got you to expose a weakness to me. That’s all.” She sat up, lacing her hands together, looking in distaste to the high table. “A momentary distraction from less savoury thoughts.”

“A weakness, a secret, a weight upon the heart. They can be the same thing. You—You’re better than people say you are.” Cordelia reached for Tharja’s hand to grip it gently, the cold skin of the dark mage in contrast to her own warmth. The Plegian twitched a little, before sniffing a bitter laugh.

“Naivety will get you killed, Ylissian,” she muttered, before she closed her eyes and exhaled, “But you are welcome. I suppose. If you insist on thanking me.”

Tharja stayed still as Cordelia eventually withdrew her hands, settling them in her lap. The air was tense and heavy between them, before they both spoke at once.

“Perhaps we should speak more often—”

“Would you like to have tea sometime--?”

Tharja blinked at her, pursing her lips. Again, they spoke at the same time.

“To keep a rival close, you understand—”

“As friends, of course, nothing else—”

Cordelia took a deep breath, before smiling a little shakily.  
“Love rivals, then, I suppose. Perhaps we could meet to glare at one another over tea?”

Tharja sniffed dismissively, rolling her eyes with a laissez-faire wave of the hand.  
“To learn another weakness, I accept.”

Cordelia smiled, and for the first time in a year, it did not hurt. Not one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Intended this as a writing exercise to examine how Cordelia would feel if she was in love with both Robin and Chrom if the two married, and somehow it ended up as Cordelia and Tharja probably go on a date under the guise of "love rivals"


End file.
